


Hypotheticals

by ladielazarus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladielazarus/pseuds/ladielazarus
Summary: Post-Battle of Hogwarts. Things need to be discussed. (Prompt 082 If)





	

The smells were so strange. Like, Dean wasn’t sure what he’d thought the end of a war would smell like but, somehow, it wasn’t the strange combination of things that he was smelling now. It was smoke, fire, blood, food, healing potions, firewhisky, and... pain. Loss. Grief. Things that Dean didn’t suppose even had smells until this moment. They definitely did, though. Smells that he didn’t reckon he’d ever forget, so long as he lived. 

 

Seamus looked so different. He was all thin and pale. His face, usually so brightened by his irrepressible smile, looked as if it hadn’t had much reason to beam lately. The idea broke Dean’s heart. He’d thought of little else over the past months aside from Seamus. He had to get back to Seamus. 

 

They were sitting with their backs against the remains of a wall at that moment, the sandwiches that someone had pressed into their hands on their way out were next to them, untouched. They weren’t really hungry. They hadn’t really said much of anything either. 

 

“If...” Dean started, and then suddenly stopped. “Never mind.”

 

“What?” Seamus asked, latching onto the fragment of a sentence much too enthusiastically. “What is it?”

 

“I... Okay.” Dean sighed again for the millionth time that afternoon. “It’s just that I promised myself that... if I survived all of this. I...” He kicked his heels hard against the ground and tried not to think about what he stood to lose, here. Finally, though, he dragged his hands through his hair in a frustrated motion. “Fuck it. If I were to kiss you right now, what would you do?”

 

Seamus responded by practically climbing Dean. He swung one leg over Dean’s and kissed him hard enough that it totally took Dean by surprise. 

 

Dean’s hands came up, somewhat automatically, to rest on Seamus’s hips. It wasn’t the first time they’d ever kissed, but the other time had been very brief and something of a joke when Seamus realized that they were standing under mistletoe. This? This was definitely not a joke. It was like kissing some sort of livewire. It burned and sizzled, but all in good ways. Dean pulled back quickly, afraid that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to.

 

“So, if I were to tell you that I’ve been promising myself to do that for months?” Seamus grinned and Dean couldn’t help but grin back. “I mean, seriously I... I was so fucking worried about you.”

 

He dropped his forehead to Dean’s shoulder and Dean sighed, wrapping his arms around Seamus in a relieved embrace. 

 

“I was worried, too, Shay. Like, constantly. We’re okay, though. Right? You and me? We’re okay?”

 

There was a brief silence and then Seamus shook his head. 

 

“No. Not yet,” he pulled back to take in Dean’s face, and then leaned in to kiss him again, softer this time. “First of all, I’m going to need a shower for about a week. Then, I’m going to need to sleep for a month,” he kissed Dean a third time. “All of these things, by the way, should preferably be done with you no more than three feet away at any given time.”

 

Dean couldn’t stop the slight smile from crossing his face. “Yes. That all sounds great, actually.”

 

“‘M not done,” Seamus insisted. “Then, lastly, I’m going to have to absolutely bloody murder you for coming back here without a wand! You absolute moron. What in the fuck would I have done if-- if--”

 

He shook his head wildly, the very idea of Dean’s untimely demise in battle obviously too much for his over-stressed brain to process at that moment. “I couldn’t, Dean. If you were-- I couldn’t. You get that, right? You were so stupid.”

 

Dean nodded. After all, he was very familiar with the types of feelings that Seamus was expressing. They had been on his own mind all too often in the recent past. 

 

“I know. I just... I had to.” he shrugged. It was a pathetic response, but it was all that he had. “I’m okay, Shay. I’m fine. We both are.”

 

“We will be,” Seamus agreed. “After my murdering of you, that is.”

 

“Right. Obviously,” Dean nodded carefully. “Only... erm... can there be more kissing before that happens because I hate to think that I’m going to go to my deathbed only having kissed you four times.”

 

“First of all,” Seamus said, climbing off of Dean’s lap to sit next to him again. He did lean his head against Dean’s shoulder, though, “I kissed you four times while you just sat there and kissed me back. And second of all, it’s five times.”

 

“Only if you count the mistletoe,” Dean pointed out.   
“Oh, I’m counting the mistletoe,” Seamus said, reaching down to lace their fingers together. Dean figured that it was probably strange how entirely not strange that felt, but it was like they’d always sat like this. 

 

“I love you, incidentally,” Dean said, feeling that it was unnecessary and yet, really crucial to say. “I just... Yeah.”

 

“I am obviously completely indifferent to you,” Seamus snorted. “Now, let’s go and see about that shower, yeah? And sleeping.”

 

He stood, tugging Dean’s hand to pull them both up. Then he wrapped his arms around in a fierce hug. “I love you, too, moron. I’m still angry as fuck at you, but I love you.”

 

They turned to walk back into the castle. They were halfway to the door before Seamus spoke again. “But only if you count the mistletoe.”


End file.
